Lookism: King's Ascension

The stench hit first.

It was the kind that clung to the back of the throat, thick and cloying… a mix of blood, metal, and industrial chemicals, soured by time and neglect. 

It coated everything, settled into the walls, the floor, the very air itself.

Taeyang barely reacted.

He'd grown used to worse.

The slaughterhouse stretched before him, cavernous and cold, rows of carcasses swaying gently from steel hooks. 

The dim overhead lights cast long, jagged shadows across the floor, pooling in dark stains that had seeped deep into the concrete.

The sound of machinery hummed low in the background, a rhythmic pulse beneath the occasional wet squelch of meat hitting metal. 

This was one of the Seoul Circle's many operations, a meat processing plant on the outskirts of Gwanak. Officially, it was just a slaughterhouse.

Unofficially, it was something else entirely.

Drugs, weapons, money laundering… whatever filth ran through Seoul's underbelly, this place was a funnel, processing more than just livestock. 

Smuggled shipments hidden in meat trucks, cash scrubbed clean through fake supply invoices, bodies disappearing into industrial grinders when things got messy. It was all systematic, controlled.

And tonight, they were here to burn it down.

Taeyang exhaled slowly, watching his breath fog in the cold. 

Anyang wasn't known for attacking first. They defended their territory, held their ground, avoided unnecessary conflict. That was how they'd survived this long. They weren't the strongest, but they were the hardest to break.

And that was exactly why this plan was going to work.

Seoul wasn't expecting them.

Their guards had grown lax, comfortable in the knowledge that Anyang never struck first. They weren't watching their backs. They weren't prepared.

Which was why, tonight, they would bleed.

"Three minutes," Minho muttered. He was crouched near the loading dock, eyes locked on the workers finishing up their shift. 

Dong-woo adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder, the cloth-wrapped bricks shifting inside.

Beside him, five more fighters from Anyang's Circle waited in tense silence. None of them were amateurs. 

You didn't volunteer for something like this unless you could handle yourself.

The three minutes passed.

Minho's eyes flicked toward him. "Thief."

Taeyang met his gaze. "Yeah?"

"You and Dongwoo take point." Minho's voice was calm, even. "Clear the way. Quiet if you can. Loud if you have to. Jungseok and Munseong, go through the other side."

A slow grin tugged at Taeyang's lips. "Got it."

The others respectively nodded.

Finally.

They moved in silence.

The slaughterhouse wasn't a fortress. Seoul didn't need heavy security here… no one was stupid enough to attack one of their businesses, not straightforward anyways. It ran itself, funneling money straight into their pockets, no one questioning where it came from.

How Minho had even found out their business was a complete mystery to Taeyang.

But it meant no elite fighters. Just workers, grunts, and maybe a few enforcers.

Still, it was better to move fast.

Taeyang stepped forward, body loose, pulse steady. Beside him, Dongwoo moved with that same casual gait, the heavy weight of bricks shifting in his bag with each step.

The first room was the packaging floor. Workers sealed slabs of meat, stacking them into crates, too focused on their tasks to notice… until one of them glanced up.

And froze.

Not at Dong-woo.

At Taeyang.

Recognition flickered across his face, his body tensing, breath hitching in his throat. The others looked up, confusion turning into unease.

Then came the whisper.

"It's the dog."

The name slithered through the room like a curse, barely above a breath, but loud enough to set everything off.

One of them jolted, reaching for something… maybe a phone, maybe a weapon. Taeyang didn't care.

He moved.

His body crashed into the worker, nails digging into flesh as he dragged the man down, teeth bared in a snarl. 

The guy barely had time to scream before Taeyang's fist came down on his face.

Once.

Twice.

A sick, wet crunch. Blood splattered against the cold tiles.

Someone else lunged.

Taeyang whipped around, grabbing the man by the ear.

A sharp yank. A scream. His other hand slammed into the man's throat, crushing his voice into a gurgle before shoving him face-first through the table.

CRACK!

The table shattered into splinters, meat packages tumbled to the floor.

Dongwoo, meanwhile, wasn't even fighting.

He stood there, watching as Taeyang tore through them, before exhaling and pulling a brick from his bag.

The last worker standing bolted for the door.

THUD!

The brick hit him square in the back of the head. He dropped

Minho stepped over him without even glancing down. "Keep moving. Dongsik, Seok. Truck."

The two nodded, already moving to drag the bodies.

No witnesses. No survivors.

The real fight was deeper inside.

It started near the processing floor.

Taeyang walked in, tensing his arm in preparation.

Four men looked up in surprise. Not workers. Fighters. Enforcers.

They weren't elites… if they were, they wouldn't be wasting their time here. But they knew how to handle themselves.

Minho peeked through and barely spared them a glance. "Handle it."

They rushed forward.

The first man swung… too wide. Taeyang ducked low, sidestepped and bit into his shoulder with a wet crunch.

The man howled, trying to pry him off. Taeyang's fingers clawed into his skin, his teeth sinking deep before he ripped away, blood coating his lips.

The second fighter hesitated. A mistake.

Taeyang pounced.

He drove his knee into the guy's ribs, then grabbed his face… and slammed it into the floor.

CRACK!

The impact left the man twitching, unconscious.

Dongwoo sighed from the side. "You could at least pretend to be normal."

The third enforcer took one look at the scene and went for Dongwoo instead.

A punch swung toward him. Dongwoo stepped back, reaching into his bag.

Brick.

THUD!

Right to the ribs. The enforcer gasped, doubling over.

THUD!

Another brick, this time to the back of the head, shattering from the force put into it.

Dongwoo exhaled, shaking out his arm. "That's three bricks down."

The last enforcer stood frozen, staring at Taeyang. Not at Dongwoo, not at Minho. Him.

"It—it's you—the dog—the hound of Anyang–"

Taeyang slammed his fist into the man's throat, cutting him off.

He let out a wet gurgle and then collapsed.

Taeyang wiped his chin with the back of his hand, his lip curling in disgust.

That stupid name.

Minho barely spared a glance at the downed fighters before speaking.

"Clear out the rest," he ordered. "We keep moving."

They went room by room.

More workers. More grunts. Some tried to fight. Most tried to run.

None of them got away.

Dongwoo crushed a man's knee with a brick. Another worker had his face slammed into the meat grinder… not turned on, but the impact alone was enough.

Someone tried to draw a knife. Taeyang got to him first. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisted, and sank his teeth into the flesh.

The scream was cut short by a knee to the gut.

Another cleared.

It wasn't long before the last of them were left in bloodstained silence.

Minho exhaled, adjusting his gloves. "They should've been here by now."

It had been the plan for Munseong and Jungseok to circle back around to them after clearing the worker rooms. They were capable… good fighters. Not just another pair of street rats.

What could they have run into?

And then, from deeper inside…

A sharp, rhythmic crack.

Not gunfire.

Something else… it was a sound Taeyang had become familiar with. The crack of bones.

Followed by a scream. Long. Hoarse. The kind that came from deep inside the ribs.

The kind that meant something had already gone too far. The three of them froze.

Then Minho spoke. "Go. We'll clear out the rest."

Taeyang didn't need to be told twice.

He ran straight through the corridor and into the room where the scream had sounded like it came from.

A worker's storage room… wide, dimly lit, filled with crates of equipment. Cleavers, old cuts and plenty of dulled metal.

And at the center of it all… 

A man.

Wearing grey.

A school uniform, blood-soaked, splattered across the sleeves, the collar, even the tips of his shoes. It was from Seoul, he recognised that logo, one of the high-schools in Gangbuk.

In his hands… 

A vice clamp. The kind used to tighten wood planks, to hold things steady.

Only it wasn't clamping wood.

It was clamping Munseong's hand.

Or at least, what was left of it.

The fingers were mangled.

Twisted. Flattened. Flesh torn open around jagged fragments of bone. Blood dripped down in slow, deliberate streaks, pooling at the base of the clamp.

And the man… he was still tightening it.

Slow. Methodical. Like he was tuning an instrument.

Munseong's body convulsed. His breath came in short, broken gasps, his scream shredding into something hoarse, something ragged and ruined.

Jungseok was already down.

Sprawled against the wall, unmoving.

The man barely looked up as Taeyang stepped forward.

His grip didn't falter. His hands didn't shake.

Another twist.

Another crack.

Munseong's scream cut through the air, raw and ragged, his body convulsing against the pain.

And finally, the man in grey spoke.

"Oh," he said.

His voice was light. Almost pleasant.

"You're the dog."

The dog.

That stupid name.

That humiliating, degrading, fucking name.

But for once, it wasn't the insult that set his teeth on edge.

It was the way the guy said it. What the man had done. 

Another twist.

Another wet, brittle crunch.

What the man was still doing.

Before he even realized it, his legs were moving, his fingers curling, his pulse roaring like a drum in his ears.

The man in grey finally looked up.

And he smiled.

Click.

The clamp fell open.

Munseong slumped forward, wheezing, his hand a ruined mess. The man stepped over him like he was nothing.

And then, he raised the vice like a weapon. The same way Taeyang curled his hands into claws.

The air between them went still.

A single, sharp moment—

Taeyang lunged.

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Serious Taeyang fight next chap woooo

I didn't thick brick guy would become a reoccuring character until writing this, ig he got stronger like Taeyang did.